Beaches of Bad Blood
by CykeclopsFF7
Summary: Alternative Reality: Sean Reeve, son of Executive of Urban Renewal, Reeve...reflects on a childhood filled with pain caused by Professor Hojo. Author's note: This was written back in 2000. I'm just reposting it under a new account. Reeve did not have a last name as of that point.


Beaches of Bad Blood

Midnight. The witching hour. The time where ghosts and spirits eat at the raw souls of the condemned and the living. Sean Thomas Reeve, quietly shut his aluminum apartment door behind him, and slowly shed his brown trench coat, tossing it upon the neatly made bed. He exhaustibly looked around the sparsely decorated room and slumped his shoulders as he sleepily walked further into the room. They had merely arrived at the Shin-Ra HQ only minutes ago after a long mission in Wutai, and Sean found himself more than willing to fall asleep that lonely, dismal night.

"I never thought that mission would end..."

He reached into the over-stuffed wooden chest of drawers and threw a pair of old jogging shorts and a white T-shirt next to his crumpled trench coat. As he began to unbutton his white-collared dress shirt, he glanced over to the oak nightstand where sat a picture of his girlfriend, Chase, enclosed within a gold frame. He smiled slightly to himself as her memory flooded into his mind, causing an overpowering feeling of relaxation and comfort. He quickly unfastened the last button on the bottom of his shirt and sleepily pulled his right arm out of the sleeve. As he reached across his chest to pull on the starched cuff on his left sleeve, the scar that ran from the middle of his upper arm to his wrist became visible to him once more. Without even pausing to remove the rest of his garment, Sean slumped down upon the bed as he gazed at the scar with haunted eyes.

"Scott..." He whispered, breaking the odd silence that had since befallen upon the room after the window air conditioner had shut itself down. "God forgive me...I never wanted that to happen..."

Falling backwards onto his bed, he presumed somewhat of a burial position as he crossed his arms across his chest, keeping the hideous scar in full view. " I should have done something...anything..."

A tear trickled down his checked as he clapped his hands together, making the room instantly dark. He pressed his lips together as he watched his chest rise and fall with anxiety. The window air conditioner flipped itself back on, creating an eerie rushing sound as he lied flat upon his back, staring up at the ceiling. Within his mind, the rush of air mimicked the sound of the small, lapping waves that were always present on the shores of Junon Harbor. The chatter of the TV in the next room over, became the sounds of Soldiers marching on their daily routine as they always did in Junon. As the wind outside his window became a child's haunting screams.

He arose once more and clapped his hands, causing the small lamp to flicker on. With his shirt still strung across one shoulder, he sat humped over with his head between his knees, and his fingers dangling close to the floor. He felt the queasiness he always felt when he recalled that tragic day. He never told anyone of his insomniac tendencies, and since such events were an usual occurrence to him, he usually did not show the symptoms of a sleep deprived person, but rather of one fully awake and confident. Nothing could have been farther from the truth.

"Maybe I should go see a psychiatrist." He chuckled nervously to himself as he shed the rest of his shirt onto the comforter. "Not that it would do any good." He snorted with a bit of cynicism that usually accompanied his guilt-ridden conscious. With the death of his mother and the seemingly disappearance of his brother, in each act, it seemed as though a little part of his heart had died. Or maybe his heart just hid a little bit deeper into the midst of himself. No matter how hard his heart tried to hide, the pain would always seek it, rendering it vulnerable and all together lost in a blanket of despair.

Now changed into his sleeping attire, he quietly slipped underneath the covers, trying to banish any thought of the past and concentrate on the current task of falling asleep. Not to his surprise, he lied awake for several hours, as he did each night, recalling the pain and anguish the Shin-Ra had placed upon his heart...

"I remember the day well..." The waters gently lapped against the sandy shores of Junon Harbor, making a relaxing, rushing sound that only added to the beach's peaceful landscape. The old shacks and dilapidated buildings that were up on the bluffs only added to it's rustic charm. "The waters...the scenery...It was like an escape...a place to hide from everyone. A place where we, for once, could be ourselves. We could pretend to be pirates, Shin-Ra Soldiers like those in the nearby base, and sometimes catch, which we were playing that day. Even Mrs. Sherbaker, one of the local women who lived upon the bluffs, seemed to be enjoying the afternoon in her run-down home.

Mrs. Sherbaker watched the two little boys below on the rocky shore as she hung her laundry out to dry over her porch railing. Their shouts echoing up over the mighty cliffs, made her momentarily pause from her domestic duties, and nogistaligically watch the two as they played upon the shore.

Junon Harbor wasn't exactly the ideal place for raising children. With the cannon and all of the military activity, few children were ever seen around the town. And being the sons of a Shin-Ra executive, Reeve, didn't exact help the two of us gain friends either.

Maybe we were close due to necessity...Because we had no one else besides our family...No, it had to have been something more ... We were more than brothers, more than friends. We were best friends. We were one in a kindred spirit although we were born 2 years apart. I remember taking my role as an older brother seriously and precariously watched him as he watched me in the bond that existed between us.

"Come on, Sean! Throw it!" The blonde-headed 8 year-old shouted at his older brother as he clasped his small hands over his mouth. "I gettin' old over here!" Scott whined as a mischievous grin grew upon his youthful cheeks.

"Be patient. "Sean grinned slyly as he ran his fingers through his dark brown hair. "I'll throw it...someday." He muttered as he admired his reflection within the ball's glossy finish.

"Sean!" Scott whined as he slumped his shoulders depressedly ;his lower lip began to quiver as Sean began to laugh. Of course, I was only teasing with him. I was only 10 at the time, doing my brotherly duties to annoy the daylights out of my younger brother. But now... even the slightest remark, I feel guilty for. I suppose I shouldn't, but I just..."

"Alright, Alright." Sean chuckled as he held the ball out in front of himself, so Scott could study it for a few moments. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah, Come on!" Throw it!" Scott shouted over the roar of the waves.

I remember letting the ball go, sending a small amount of sand back into my face from where I had bounced it earlier. I suppose the wind caught it as I watched it sail right over his blonde head , and watched it bounce behind one of the supports of the pier.

"Aww...Sean!" Scott threw his hands up in disgust. "You threw it! You go get it!"

I remember shouting back in response...

"No way! You're closer!"

He gave me another pitiful look as I pointed into the dark shadows underneath the pier with a pointed look in my eyes. That was the worst decision I had ever made in my life. I would have given up everything just to step back in time and prevent what was about to happen. I watched him disappear into the murky shadows, expecting him to emerge with the ball at any moment. Little did I know what beasts lurked in the darkness. I should have known better...I just should have-

The ball was merely inches away from his tiny fingertips when he felt the icy grip of an unknown assailant drag him further and further away from the ball by his waist. "SEAN!" He cried as tried to wiggle free of the Soldier's grasp. "SEAN! HELP ME!"

It was like the cry of death howling in the wind in a moon-lit night. Every inch of skin on my body crawled as my heart skipped several beats. I felt an icy tingle run down my spine and a queasiness in the pit of my stomach as I tore across the sand as fast as I could, sending a spray of sand behind me as I tried to lessen the distance between my brother and I. I found him in the grasp of two Shin-Ra Soldiers. The beasts, apparently, where more human than I could have ever imagined. Beads of sweat began to trickle down my suntanned face as my eyes narrowed upon the one thing that I considered special to me and was even more so, was a part of me.

"SCOTT!" I screamed with all of my heart as I charged forward, not knowing, but also not caring, what the Soldiers were doing with my brother. He was my brother. My responsibility and I would die before I would let anything to happen to him. My life ceased to matter, as his hung in the balance. A sense of responsibility and pride filled my chest. Nothing else mattered...

The second Shin-Ra soldier saw me approach, and backhanded me across the face with his fist. I stumbled backwards into the sand, flinging blood from my bloody nose back into my hair. I tasted the bitter-sweet flavor of blood upon my tongue as I picked myself up off the sand. But I would die before I let anything happen to him, and I meant that with all of my heart. I found that the Soldiers had dragged him to the cement stairs that led to the town upon the bluffs, and perhaps out of my life forever. I ran as hard as I could and tackled one of the soldiers to the ground with every ounce of strength that drew from my friendship with my brother. With a flushed face and a mixture of blood and tears streaming down my cheeks, I punched him with everything I had. I never knew such a ferocity to be within me, the rage within my eyes and heart frightened me, but I shoved those thoughts as a way as I swung, using them as the focus of my rage. Tears began to stream down my bloodied face as I tried not to look into his evil eyes. But a ten year-old was no match for a grown man. I had only made him angrier.

He flung me off with one arm and removed his rifle from his shoulder, the silver bayonet was almost daring to me make another rescue attempt. I accepted the challenge and as I lunged forward once more, I felt the butt of his gun collide with my temple, and the icy sting of the bayonet tear down my arm to my wrist. I flew backwards in fury of blood and sand, and found that could not move. My head was throbbing and my arm felt as though it had been on fire.

As I laid there, beaten and bloodied on the sand, I remember trying to shout out his name once more, but all that emerged from my swollen lips was a harsh whisper that was drowned within the waves. I recall darkness slowly entering my blackened eyes and a small tear running down my bloodied cheek. My blood slowly drained away into the harbor, as I slipped into unconsciousness. I wanted to die. I had to die. I couldn't live with myself any longer.

I awoke a few days later in Junon Hospital with injured body and a tortured soul. A piece of my heart was stolen, and I felt utterly lost and alone without it. I felt violated, and even more ashamed of the fact that I had let my one true friend down. I just...a part of my heart and soul died that day. The pain was more than I could bare...I had to shut a part of myself down to become numb to the outside world. I couldn't face the feelings I had about letting him down, and thus being an accomplice to his murder. I am not a murder...or am I? I couldn't decide. I knew the decision would have killed me where my injuries did not, so I've kept it bottled-up within me for 13 years. Wondering and waiting for a true answer or until the day I could face reality.


End file.
